SENSATION > Par les soirs bleus d’été, j’irais dans les sentiers, picoté par les blés, fouler l’herbe menue: rêveur, j’en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds. Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue. Je ne parlerai pas, je ne penserai rien: mais l’amour infini me montera dans l’âme. Et j’irai loin, bien loin, comme un bohémien, par la Nature, heureux comme avec une femme.
SENSATION > Of the blue summer eves, I’ll walk along the paths, slashed by the wheat blades, trampling upon the fine grass, dreaming, I will smell the freshness at my feet, and I will let the wind bathe my uncovered head. I’ll say nothing at all, nor will I think at all: yet this infinite love will rise to fill my soul. Then I’ll go so far away, like a bohemian, amidst nature, happy as if with a woman.
(Arthur Rimbaud)
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